


Conversations, Part 1

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-12
Updated: 2003-12-12
Packaged: 2019-05-30 20:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	Conversations, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Conversations, Part 1**

**by:** pung

**Character(s):** Leo, Margaret  
**Pairing(s):** Leo/Jordan  
**Category(s):** Romance, Post-Episode  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer(s):** All characters but Hannah are the creation of Aaron Sorkin. Yadda-yadda-yadda.  
**Summary:** A continuation of "Of Brave Soldiers", taking place the evening of the morning after.   


Part 1 "A Matter of Trust." 7:30pm

"It's got to be in here somewhere." he thought, thumbing thru the manual. It was late, and the West Wing was hushed, except of an occasional aide delivering packages and folders to be dealt with in the morning.

He tried again. The computer made that flat "You fucked up" beep and he sat back and shook his head. He had several e-mail accounts-one for West Wing Correspondence, and one for his personal use. He was trying to set up another, just for himself and Jordan.

Margaret tapped on his door, and he looked up from his labors. "Yes?"

"Senator Mitchell is delayed." she said. "He'll be here at 9:00pm."

"Thanks, Margaret." The computer beeped at him again. She stood there a moment.

"Having a problem?" she asked.

"What? No...I got it." The computer beeped again. She stood there. Leo looked up at her. "Anything else?"

"No." she said, holding her ground. The computer beeped again. "What seems to be the problem?" 

"Nothing. I'm trying to set up an e-mail account." That annoying beep again. 

"Isn't that something I would do?"

"This isn't business related." Beep. Margaret stood there until he looked up. "What?"

"I'd be happy to..."

"Thank you, Margaret, I think I've got it." Beep.

Margaret folded her arms. "Did you by any chance try to set up a new A.I.M. account as well?"

Leo looked over his glasses at her. "Why do you ask?"

"A message showed up a few minutes ago in your private e-mail box. For some reason, your request didn't go through."

"Dammit." he said under his breath. "Alright, I'll do it again. Thank you Margaret." Beep.

"I'd be happy to..."

"That won't be necessary, Margaret-this is something...personal." Beep.

"Leo, there's a reason I handle anything computer related for you. Do you remember what it is?"

Beep.

"It's because, for a man who was Valedictorian of his class, not to mention Editor of the Law Review, you are completely inept when it comes to computer technology."

"Do I really need to hear this from someone who crashed the White House e-mail system for two days last year?"

"That was NOT my fault. I sent the information about the muffins..."

"Margaret, PLEASE. I can't go through that again. I'd rather submit to thumb-screws." Beep.

"Why don't you trust me?"

He looked up at her. Her face was granite, but her eyes were registering her true feelings.

"What?" he said, "I trust you, I just don't want to bother you with this."

"No, Leo-you just don't want to trust me with this. Do you have any idea how much I know about you?"

He sat back and took off his glasses "I think you're about to tell me."

"I've worked for you since the Department of Labor. I've handled all you personal affairs for nearly two years. I know your accountant, your decorator, your tailor and your doctors. Heck, I dated your proctologist. I know that it's boxers-not briefs, and I know the size. I know everything you've had to deal with, because I've been dealing with it too. I don't gossip around the water cooler, and as far as I know, I've only dropped the ball once."

"And in your spare time, you practice forging the President's signature."

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew he had made a big mistake. She opened her mouth to respond, and then it snapped shut. She turned and left his office without another word. In a moment, he heard the sound of her fingers on the keyboard.

He sat back in his chair, listening to the frantic sound of her fury. "Margaret." he called. There was no response. He got out of his chair, and walked to the door. She was sitting with her back to him, her eyes on the computer display. "Margaret, come back in here a moment."

"You asked for this memo before I left." she said curtly.

"Yes, well-I'd like to talk to you first." She continued to type. "Margaret, you're gonna give yourself carpel tunnel syndrome. PLEASE, come in here a moment." She rose from her chair and breezed by him without a word. He followed her into his office. "Sit." he said. 

She perched on the edge of the chair, and instead of going around to his chair, he leaned against the desk in front of her. 

"I'm sorry about the crack about the e-mail." he said. She did not respond. "Also about the business with the President's signature." She continued to avoid his eyes. "Shall I open a vein? What? I'm sorry, Margaret."

"Do you really think I 'm upset about that?" she said finally.

"Well..."

"I'm used to what you call humor, Leo. I'm upset because after all this time there's something going on you don't want to trust me with."

"Margaret, what was going on with my testimony at the hearing..."

"Oh, screw the hearing, Leo." she said abruptly, and got up. She started toward her office and stopped. She took a deep breath and closed the door. "I'm talking about Jordan Kendall."

"My attorney..."

"Your attorney, and your...Leo, do you think I'm blind? All the meetings you had before the holidays had a professional air to them. Afterward..." She stopped and shook her head. "I can READ body language, Leo-especially when it's screaming at me. She breezed in here the other day, and when I said you weren't in, she marches right into your office without so much as a by-your-leave. After you left for the budget meeting, she stayed there, curled up on your couch."

"Margaret..."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not mad at her about that. If I were the kind of person who did comment on things that were none of her business, I'd say it was about damn time. You need someone..." She stopped and waved her hands in the air. "Wait, forget I said that. I'm digressing."

"YEAH." he said, nodding.

"My point is this. Now that you're where I think you are with Ms. Kendall, part of what you need is what I can do, but you won't let me do it."

"Do what?" he said, still amazed by this outpouring.

"You want to set up a private e-mail address for her alone, I can DO that. You want a new A.I.M. account, I can do THAT. I don't need to know your e-mail address or your screenname. I can make dinner reservations, I can order flowers. I can FACILITATE this relationship so you can just ENJOY this relationship." Her diatribe finally ran out of steam, and she just stood there by the door, waiting for his response.

"O.K." he said, finally. "Do it." He went around and sat down in front of his laptop. He gestured toward it, and she came around the desk and leaned over the keyboard. She hit a few keys, wiggled the mouse and clicked.

She straightened up and turned her back to him. "Type in your e-mail address, and click the mouse once."

He did as he was told, and the laptop responded with a friendly chime. She turned back, and played with the keyboard again. She clicked the mouse and again turned her back. "Enter your screen name and click the mouse again." He did, and was rewarded with another friendly chime. "Anything else?" she said, her voice now unfrozen.

"No, I think that's all for now." he said. "Thank you, Margaret."

"Do you want me to set up a separate file in your accounting program for related expenses?"

He grinned at her professional tone of voice. "No, I think my regular personal account will do, thank you."

"You're welcome." she said, and went around toward the door.

"Margaret?" She turned back. "When did you EVER drop the ball?" he asked.

She sighed, and looked down. "When you were working on the gun bill."

"I don't remember..."

"With all the stuff that was going on, trying to get that passed...I forgot to flag your wedding anniversary."

"Oh." he said. He smiled at her and shook his head. "Margaret, my marriage didn't fail because you forgot to flag my wedding anniversary."

"I know."

"Anyway, maybe I should give you some pertinent dates to flag, when I have them."

"Sure."

"So," he said, ready to change the subject,"Where are you on that memo?"

"Almost done."

"Good. Thank you." She turned to leave. "Margaret?"

"Yes?" she said, turning back.

"You really dated Jerry Jachman?" he asked, an evil grin playing over his face.

"I knew that was a mistake the minute I said it." she said, going thru the door.

"Yeah!" he called after her. He settled down, and started to write an e-mail to Jordan. For the first time all day, he started to feel as if things just might work out alright. On a number of Fronts.

Beep.

"Dammit! MARGARET!!"

**The Next Story in the Series:** "The Very Thought Of You" 


End file.
